Tuesday, April 2, 2013

THE DOUBLE LIFE OF INCORPORATE THINGS: Chapter 3.2

Chapter 3.2 (For previous chapters, please see the links on the right sidebar)

Maybe
Jonathon felt it was only the little lady who should keep her head down while he was
out playing double agent. I balled my hands into fists in the lap of my skirt, glad for the lovely lace tablecloth to hide my gesture.
Perhaps he wanted revenge against my refusal of his proposal and was
reasserting his own ability to take actions apart from me.

Would he go meet
Brinkman on his own? No. I'd seen the route. I was not about to let him edge me
out of this. I hadn't saved his life, risked my life, nearly died twice, and
undergone a host of nightmares that would make Poe envious for their morbidity.

I realized my soup spoon was loud against the bowl, that I'd merely been
turning it, not eating it, and thankfully it was cleared for some sort of
poultry in a fine glaze that I'm sure would have smelled and seemed delicious
were I in a mood to enjoy it.

"We'll have to face them eventually," Jonathon declared.
"With what weaponry, I've no idea. But I feel the pall. I know their
demonic forces are poisoning the city. I've seen flickers of red-gold fire
across the jagged skyline, treetops, bridge spires. The city will fall to the
whispers of demons if we're not careful."

"Yes, it will," Lavinia said, in a frightfully certain murmur.

"Only if you stop being vigilant will the city fall," Mrs. Northe
countered. "You, yourselves, have always been the weaponry. Guns or blades
may not help you. You know your best arsenal. You must be
blindingly bright," she commanded. "Defiantly radiant."
I scowled. "How can I after all we've endured?"

Mrs. Northe's nostrils flared, and she pounded her gloved fist upon the table,
rattling all her fine china settings. "Because now, right now, is when you
need to shine the brightest! Now is when the enemy expects you to be dim,
broken, helpless, and afraid!" Her passion was sudden, her words
tremulous, eyes hard as she drove a rapier point home to its target.

"If you do not blaze like a dying star, my child, then
you might as well be already dead, no longer glittering in the sky of promise
God intends for you. You must be spectacularly luminous. Burn far hotter than
you're able. Beam for your dear life, child. The world is nothing but shadow
and dead ends. Only your own fire can light a way out of the maze."

"Amen," Reverend Blessing murmured.

The rest of our meal was spent mostly in silence, with a bit
of small talk about art and a few amusing Washington anecdotes from Senator
Bishop. He was savvy enough not to bring real political issues to the table.

But all I could think about was what lay ahead and if Jonathon and I could
remain the solid team we'd been thus far in trying times. I was a woman of
faith who was full of doubt. What could a ragtag band of Spiritualists, a
senator, exorcist, a British Lord, a museum curator, and whatever I was—some
Lutheran magnet for nightmares and the fancies of demons—do against a wealthy,
resourced secret society who distributed murder and mayhem like a calling card
to calling hours? I wanted to see a way out of the maze, but for the life of
me, and maybe yet the death of me, I couldn't.

As per tradition in fine dinner parties, the men went off to
the dark wood and leather of the late Mr. Northe’s study to smoke cigars and
talk about being masters of their domain or some such masculine chatter, and
the ladies went off to the soft, lace-filled parlor to do the same. From
Jonathon’s reports, that male-driven room had been immaculately maintained and
kept nearly overstocked with all kinds of fine liquor and exquisite cigars.

I
wondered how often Mr. Bishop was over to partake of these treasures as well.
Peter Northe had been gone for at least seven years if I remembered correctly,
but it would seem his favorite supplies would be refilled in perpetuity. Perhaps
his widow felt some part of him lingered on in the fine things enjoyed by the
other interesting men who entertained at her home. I wondered if she heard his
spirit speak, what he’d think of the growing closeness between my father and
his widow, or just what the presence of Senator Bishop meant, as they too
appeared far too familiar for mere friends. The energy between them seemed
sibling in nature, but then again Mrs. Northe was a mystery. Just another
question to add to my growing tally.

“You’ve a lot on your mind, Natalie,” Mrs. Northe murmured
over her shoulder as she led Lavinia ahead of her to the parlor where the maid
had set out tea and aperitifs. Lavina floated ahead as if she were a ghost, her
thin frame alighting upon a divan, black layers splaying out, her eyes
downcast, her expression lost in some reverie.

I set my jaw, wishing I could better hide things from her,
as this was not the time, in a stranger’s company, to unload all that gnawed at
me. “That I do.”

“Whatever you think I may have neglected, I hope you’ll do
me some credit and believe that I have taken actions on all counts that require
concern.”

I looked into her steely eyes, bright and powerful, and
somehow I was sure she was talking about Maggie. I hoped she’d elaborate at the
appropriate time. She then leaned close and murmured, “I’m going to interview
the madman Crenfall to see if I can get a hint from him about the root of
Society operations in the city. I don’t expect much, but any lead is better
than none. Care to come with me?”

And in one swift rush, all my doubts and my frustrations
were forgotten in the excitement that was being included in secret operations
by this most compelling woman. I was under her thrall yet again.

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“No, you won’t like it at all. Asylums are horrid places,
but—”

“But I can’t bear being useless.”

“Indeed, I figure you’d be less trouble if I took you with
me. Tomorrow?”

“No, we’re…” I looked up in her eyes, and I felt my cheeks
color. I was not a good at lying if I was quite sure my lie would be
discovered. It was so hard to be artful around a clairvoyant. “Busy.”

“Indeed. Not tomorrow? The day after, then. I’ll tell your
father we’re out for lunch. I’ll indeed feed you, though I’m not sure we’ll
have much of an appetite after we’re done with the place.”

I just nodded, feeling a bit helpless and useless, wondering
if, like the times before, the dark magic was just waiting around another
corner I hadn't anticipated. But at least my next two days would prove
eventful. It was true, I was less trouble if I was busy. After a moment I
realized Lavinia was staring at me with an intense scrutiny that surpassed
custom.

“You’re well intentioned, Miss Natalie. Worried you’ll fail,
but well intentioned,” Lavinia said quietly, before turning to Mrs. Northe and
elaborating. “It’s odd, ever since the incident, I smell things about persons,
subtle scents, but suddenly I feel like I know the truth of their heart. You
and the senator are powerful and inscrutable, but similarly well intentioned, though
world-weary. I can sense it as if I were to taste the salt air of a long sea
voyage.” She stopped herself as if she took a moment to truly listen to her own
words, unsettled by their odd poetry.

“No, I don’t think you’re mad, before you ask,” Mrs. Northe
reassured the girl before she could even think to mitigate her words. That sounded familiar. In the early days of our acquaintance, when I
was convinced I was seeing the painting where Jonathon's soul was imprisoned
move, Mrs. Northe had said the same thing to me, bless her.

“Jonathon sees that in auras," I offered. "The
ability to judge character that you describe. Those of us who have been targeted by
the Society end up, it would seem, coming away with more than we bargained for,
but something that can be useful in the right circumstances, as long as you’re
brave enough to use it. I look at it as God trying to give us an advantage, a
weapon borne out of toil and pain.”

I'm not sure Mrs. Northe had ever given me such a proud look
as she did just then. I suppose I sounded sort of like her.

Lavinia stared at me, seeming to gain the kind of strength
and sense of purpose I felt when I was called to save Jonathon, me and me
alone. I found myself liking this girl who seemed to wish to rise to the
challenge, not hide from it in fear. But the struggle was there in her pale
eyes. I knew that too.

Of course a thoughtful, complex girl like Lavinia Kent would be
Mrs. Northe’s new project instead of her entitled, narrow-minded niece. Still,
I’d have to see if there was something I could do to help Maggie, even if Mrs.
Northe wouldn’t. The idiot girl had nearly gotten me killed, but I had the
sense that I owed her some sympathy and aid. Maggie was a product of her age,
her family. When I lost my ability to speak as a child, I'd become an outcast,
I had to think of life differently, fend for myself differently. Miss Kent
chose an outsider's perspective due to her interests. Maggie was the sort of
girl society expected her to be, until she toyed too close to the fires of dark
magic and got us burned. But I was stronger than Maggie. I had to earn
Lavinia’s sense that I was well intentioned. Not only for myself, but for
others.

We sipped some sort of sugary liqueur, and Lavinia drank in
Mrs. Northe’s next instructions as if they were gospel. “Now, my dear girl, you
must reach out to the rest of the members of your association and make sure
none of them are trying to get ahold of the substance again, and if they are,
we need to intercept those channels. Can you do this?”

Lavinia nodded. “I’ll make my rounds tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Day by day, fate unfolded. Carefully, wrought with
the terrible dread that hell would suddenly open before us. I feared the
Master’s Society had been busy creating pitfalls for us, traps for us to walk
into… My morbid imagination had been given such fodder in the past months that
anything was possible and all I could do was pray. But even prayer felt like
flimsy comfort against a widening net that sought to catch us up and feed…

Before long we parted our ways with pleasantries I hardly
remembered; they all felt a bit forced, all of us sensitive and aware enough
that we sat in the eye of the storm, a maelstrom underground, swirling around
us, ready to drag us under like Hades did Persephone.

That night I wondered if I’d dream, all sorts of things
having been stirred up. For the past two weeks, my nightmares had been dormant,
meaning we did at least have some effect on pushing the dark magic back from
whence it came. There were flashes in my dreams, nothing concrete, just vague
shadows and the back of Jonathon. Walking away from me…and the hollowness that
remained in his absence...

--

(End of Chapter 3.2 -- Copyright 2013 Leanna Renee Hieber, The Magic Most Foul saga - If you like what you see, please share this link with friends, Tweet it, FB, + it! Please pick up a copy of Magic Most Foul books 1 and 2: Darker Still and The Twisted Tragedy of Miss Natalie Stewart and/or donate to the cause via the donate button on the sidebar! Cheers! Happy haunting! See you next Tuesday!)

ETERNA AND OMEGA (Eterna Files 2)

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About Me

Actress, playwright and award winning, Barnes & Noble bestselling author of the STRANGELY BEAUTIFUL, the MAGIC MOST FOUL and the ETERNA FILES series of Gothic Victorian Fantasy novels for adults and teens. Her books have been translated into many languages and chosen for multiple book club editions. Four time Prism Award winner for excellence in her genre. Actress (Member AEA, SAG-AFTRA), lifelong Perky Goth, vegetarian, devotee of all things 19th century, owner of more corsets than is sensible, loves nothing more than a good ghost story (she works for Boroughs of the Dead tour company) and a long stroll through a beautiful graveyard. Passionate advocate of Gothic Literature at conventions, symposiums and schools around the country. A proud member of performer unions AEA and SAG-AFTRA, she works often in film and television on shows such as Boardwalk Empire.
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"Leanna Renee Hieber rules with an iron fist and a tiny black hat." - author Sam Sykes

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